


Bitter Tastes and Bitter Truths

by RealtaCuardach



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5.07, Arthur POV, Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealtaCuardach/pseuds/RealtaCuardach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur could not see or move during his poisoning, but he could hear. Tag of episode 5x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Tastes and Bitter Truths

The wine was bitter and Arthur nearly put his goblet down.

Looking up into the face of his smiling queen made him stop in his tracks. The smile was so contented, so cheerful, that it made his heart stop in his chest. Gwen had been so unhappy ever since the Dark Tower, like a shadow of herself from the moment her brother had breathed his last. She had tried to smile, tried to keep him from worrying, but it was no good. It had been so long since he had seen her look so happy.

The last thing he wanted to do was to ruin that beautiful smile by complaining that the wine she'd chosen was a bad vintage. Instead he swallowed the gulp of wine manfully and returned the goblet to the table, smiling at her.

And then everything began to blur.

Every muscle, every bone, every vein ached with an unbearable weight, and he felt his limbs sagging to the ground as his body settled uncomfortably into the contours of the chair. There was more wrong with the wine then the vintage, his increasingly sluggish thoughts declared, and then he settled on the only possible cause. _Poison._

His mind attempted to race despite his listless thoughts, his heart pounding as he willed his hands to shove the wine off the table, to signal to Gwen that he needed help. But all his fingers could manage was a desperate scrabbling across the table and his shirt as the energy leeched from his bones.

 _Gwen,_ he thought desperately, in the vain hope that she could understand his thoughts, _don't touch the wine, don't…_

But then his thoughts faded away into a haze of fatigue and dawning pain, and he could just watching through sagging eyelids as his queen drew closer. In the unclearness of his mind, he could almost see what looked like a cruel smile tilting at her lips as she bent down. But that must have been the poison's influence…

There was a dull thud on the table and a quiet whisper of skirts towards the door, which swung quietly on his hinges before giving way to silence. Arthur strained to open his eyes, but could not, tried to reach towards the table and get a grip on reality but was unable to.

The door slammed open unceremoniously, and Arthur heard the horrified "Arthur" that Merlin croaked out (it could only be Merlin, if not for the voice than for the fact that he was the only one who slammed open the king's bedchamber door) before all was swallowed up into darkness.

~.~

Arthur knew about death. As a warrior trained to kill practically since birth, he knew full well how a certain amount of force could easily end the intake of breath permanently. The copper smell of the lifeblood of his fallen comrades had burned into his nose more than a few times since he had reached the tender age necessary to allow him into battle. He'd received enough wounds, near-fatal or otherwise, to understand the sense of mortality.

That being thought, he had never imagined such a quiet death. In his more resigned dreams, he could envision a jarring fall, the tearing of flesh and bone, the burn of his blood spewing forth, hot and red and terrible. He had considered a silent passing, his limbs hanging limply even as they were strong with muscle and youth and power. It was a disconcerting thing to be felled by an unknown, unseen enermy rather than facing down his murderer with defiance in his eyes.

Maybe that was the reason that he didn't succumb totally to the pull of the poison. Everything was darkness and stillness, and there was a dull permanence of aching pain throughout his body. But he could hear, occasionally pulling free of the stupor of the poison enough to try and figure out what was happening.

The low hum of Gaius' tone was relatively constant, punctuated by the clinking of bottles. Occasionally he heard frightened sniffs from Guinevere that choked the sweet sound of her voice. Otherwise, there was mostly silence, and Arthur attempted to distract himself from the ever-present, pulsing pain by trying to imagine what had happened…and what he would do when he was cured.

Never did he allow his mind consciously dwell on the possibility that the cure was impossible.

~.~

The quiet was broken some time later when Arthur pulled himself from the darkness to hear a cluster of voices in the hallway, sounding confused, hurt, and frustrated. Following a loud shushing which had probably come from Gaius, the shuffling of feet could be heard and the murmur of voices continued, although more quietly and with less heat. Concentrating on the different sounds, Arthur could tell that his closest Knights were around his bed, as was Gaius and his wife…but no Merlin.

There was a brief blossoming of hurt at the thought of Merlin not being there that surpassed the waves of pain flooding through his body. Although he automatically tried to dismiss the feeling of abandonment, laughing that the idiot was probably getting drunk off his arse, he didn't believe it. Besides, it might have felt worse if he had.

After a few minutes the room grew nearly silent once more, and Arthur felt shocked that they would leave a poisoned king so alone and vulnerable. But then, the side of the bed sagged beneath a pair of elbows and a conflicted sigh reached his ears. The sigh was too masculine to be Guinevere and too young to be Gaius, but Arthur couldn't figure out anymore than that.

And then the person spoke.

"I wish I could blame you," the voice said, its usual cockiness, "but it's not your fault. I just wish…" Gwaine took his elbows off the side of the bed and there came a sound as though he was knotting his fist in his hair. "I like you mate, for all your being a stuck-up, pompous princess sometimes, but I don't think I belong here. Not now." There was a grunt of irritation. "But I promised him. I promised I would look out for you. That's the only bloody reason I'm not with him right now, or getting him out, or something!"

The bedpost was solid, and the entire bed shook as Gwaine punched it with all his might before cursing vehemently. "He didn't think it was safe…he didn't know who to trust. At least he trusts me." He sighed, "So you're stuck with me, Arthur. At least until we get you better and him cleared – because I'm not breaking that promise. Never."

Arthur tried to clear his head enough to figure out what Gwaine was talking about. The knight kept mentioning a "he" but it was impossible to muster up the concentration he needed to determine what was going on. _Who would Gwaine do anything for? Who would he show that much respect for?_

He felt the answer within his grasp, and was reaching for it when a jolt of sharp pain ran through him. Almost seeing the elusive answer fade from his fingertips, Arthur let the waves of unconsciousness bury him.

~.~

The next time he was aware of what was happening, his eyes were able to slide open a hair.

Sadly, it wasn't enough to use to communicate with the others in the room. But at least now he could see Guinevere's beautiful face and Leon, loyal as ever but worried, sitting beside his bed. Again, it would have felt better to have Merlin sitting beside them as well. Gwen needed more than Arthur's most trusted knight, she needed Merlin there too – he was her friend as well as Arthur's, after all.

The sight of her tears nearly broke his heart and he yearned to gain the strength to raise up his hand to brush the tears away. Even then he felt pride blossom inside at the faith that the knights had in Gwen, and at the struggling but straight posture she took at listening to their loyalty.

"Thank you, Leon," her voice quavered despite her smile, and she turned back to gaze at her husband. Arthur would have given anything to smile reassuringly at her, but the tendrils of darkness were beginning to drag at his consciousness and his eyelids were beginning to sag. In his desperation to see as much of her face as he could, he strained to make out her expression. His limited vision began to blur, but his heart thudded at what appeared to be a small but malicious smirk tearing at the corners of her mouth.

 _It wasn't real,_ he reminded himself weakly as the undertow pulled him under, _you just misunderstood…_

~.~

There was the loud clanging of the warning bell outside the castle, but Arthur barely noticed it. Loud yells and gasps filled the suddenly dark and windy courtyard, but Arthur was unaware. Sound and sliver of sight all were swallowed up and overwhelmed by … something.

Arthur didn't know what it was exactly. It started with a warm pressure on his chest that oddly enough elicited no pain. The pressure lingered and lingered and then, with an explosion that was all light and sound and breath and air and life, spread out to every part of his body.

The pain vanished.

The stiffness vanished.

The confusion and fear vanished.

He could breathe. And, inexplicably, everything felt right.

He had been saved.

~.~

When he finally awoke, he could see his men standing around and Gwen hovering near the head of his bed, happiness in her face, but worry and latent fear in the corners of her eyes. "Arthur!" she burst out and leaned towards him.

"My lady," Gaius cautioned, stepping forward to prevent from touching him, "it's best to keep away for now. The king has recovered but he is still very weak. That poison caused pain everywhere, and his skin should be very tender."

Gwen pulled back her hand and bit her lip guiltily. Arthur reached forward, secretly gritting his teeth, as he stretched forward to cover her hand with his own. "It's all right," he said in as firm a voice as he could manage, "I'm so glad to see you."

He craned his neck to see as many of the rest of them as he could and smiled weakly. "All of you." His eyes tracked over Gaius, Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Gwen… He frowned. "Wait, where's Merlin?"

Suddenly, no one seemed to know where to look – all except Gwaine, who continued to regard the king with a firm but almost unhappy gaze. "That idiot," Arthur muttered, without heat but with a twinge of hurt at the back of the words, "I can't believe that he wouldn't come to see if I was all right." He looked over at Gaius. "Where is he?"

Leon took it upon himself to speak. "He's," he hesitated, "in the dungeon, sire."

Arthur looked at him. And then blinked. And then burst out in a roar of laughter. "That really isn't funny," he snorted, "but after days of not being able to laugh I needed that. Now really," he smiled in a benevolent but impatient fashion, "where is Merlin?"

More grimacing and shuffling of feet, and then Gwaine spoke up in a steady voice. "He's in the dungeon," he replied, "after being arrested for poisoning you."

Arthur blinked once, then twice.

"What?!"

~.~

"Why would you do that?" Arthur asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose fervently in order to dispel the headache forming there. Looking at the tears in Gwen's eyes brimming and overflowing, he bit back the sharpness that would normally have accompanied such a question.

The two were alone in their chambers, Gwen standing near him while Arthur, bundled up in a blanket, was situated in his usual chair and staring at the table where he'd been poisoned. Once he'd discovered that Merlin had been thrown into the dungeon for real, he had quickly sent Gwaine and Gaius down to let him out and send him up. Of all the idiotic things to believe…Merlin would never do such a thing like that to him. Arthur trusted the not-really-an-idiot with his life, and knew without a doubt that the culprit must have been elsewhere.

Gwen's fingers tightened in the material of her gown and her red eyes looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Arthur…I just…I panicked," she nearly whimpered, "it just…you were hurt! And…all the evidence seemed to point at Merlin being the culprit!" She blinked back tears. "I didn't want to believe it, I really didn't, but…"

Arthur took a deep breath and reminded himself that seeing him nearly dead probably had affected Gwen's usually acute reasoning. He himself would have probably flown into a vengeful rage if he had ever seen Gwen in that same position, never mind the consequences. But to accuse Merlin…he and Gwen had been friends even before Merlin and Arthur had even spoke civilly to one another. It just didn't make sense.

"I know I need to apologize to him," Gwen said, a weak smile forming through the trembling of her lips, "but I've been distracted. I'm just so happy you're alive!" A determined look entered her eye. "But first," she said with a firm countenance, "I need to find the real culprit, and clear Merlin's name for good."

Arthur thought he saw a peculiar glint in her gaze when she mentioned their friend's name, but assumed it was due to the still slight haziness of his vision. Besides, the Gwen he knew always felt guilty for bad things that happened to her friends, even when they were not her fault or caused on purpose.

With a quick peck on the cheek, Gwen strode out into the hallway, her skirts billowing behind her, whispering on the ground. She turned and vanished out of sight, and Arthur sagged slightly backward in his chair, feeling drained already.

But then Merlin arrived in the door.

The pure joy and relief in his manservant/best friend's face brought such a gladdening blow to his heart that it was almost humbling. For a moment, the two just stared at each other, both with relief in their gazes. Merlin, for the fact that his king and friend had survived his poisoning, and Arthur, that Merlin bore no bruises or signs of ill treatment from his sojourn in the dungeon. He hoped that this was due to the fact that no one could truly believe that Merlin would ever mean him harm. Ever.

There were no flowery words. There was no need.

In the back of his mind, Arthur wondered about how talkative Gwen had been, compared to how silent Merlin was. Typically, the two were so similar in how they dealt with stress and grief, and it seemed odd that Gwen would be so effusive in the time of difficulty. Merlin's eyes were open and honest and easy to read, whereas Arthur still puzzled over the glints in Gwen's eyes.

He shook his head. He was thinking nonsense.

"Merlin," he greeted.

But in the back of his mind, he wondered…


End file.
